Travellers Inn, Caerwys

THERE was a time when the A55 was a sedate little highway where we all became Sunday afternoon drivers, occasionally spending a couple of hours admiring Conwy’s medieval walls as we struggled to make our way through town.

THERE was a time when the A55 was a sedate little highway where we all became Sunday afternoon drivers, occasionally spending a couple of hours admiring Conwy’s medieval walls as we struggled to make our way through town.

The Halfway Café in Bodelwyddan and hostelries such as the Singing Kettle and the White House became popular stopping-off points to ease the tedium of the trundle between east and west, and vice versa.

Now there’s no such luxury. Conwy’s walls no longer enchant the driver, as the road plunges beneath the river through the permanently neon-lit tunnel. Once-familiar watering holes stand shivering on rural side-roads as the world roars by in glorious dual carriageway stereo.

While many console themselves over steaming mugs of tea and bacon sarnies at one of the multitude of mobile caterers that clutter the roadside, others prefer the comfort of a roaring fire and some slate over their heads.

That’s where places like the Travellers Inn come into their own.

Seemingly out on a limb some couple of miles outside Caerwys in Flintshire, reputedly Wales’ smallest town, it actually comes into its own due to its position right by the A55 near Junction 30.

With national flags fluttering in welcome on the frontage, it’s easily visible for some distance for those travelling westwards, even given the manic speeds at which many seem to be hurtling along.

Served by ample parking space to front and rear, it offers a welcome haven from the stresses and strains of coping with driving on a two-lane carriageway that in reality needs to be a fully-fledged motorway.

The pub is light and airy as I step inside, with a sizeable central servery. A cosy bar complete with cosy fire range on my left suggests that not all trade is transient, with locals obviously also making their way here from the countryside around.

It’s mid-afternoon, and the only other customers are a trio of mature ladies in the conservatory enjoying what is obviously a regular treat off the special two course menu. They seem oblivious to the muted if constant hum of traffic from the tarmac madhouse just yards away, as it competes with rain-drops tap-dancing on the glass roof.

Mine host, who seems to know them, is multi-tasking as receptionist, barman, maitre d’ and probably chief bottle washer as well, and coping admirably all on his tod. He tries a neat line in humour to keep the ladies amused as they decide on their puddings.

Obviously largely dependent on its food trade to keep the doors open, this freehouse offers a huge and varied menu, just the job for a clientele largely looking for food almost on the hoof rather than a cosy candlelit dinner spread out over two or three hours.

It includes usual pub staples such as cod and chips (£6.25), ploughman’s lunch (£5.75) or chicken tikka masala (£9.25).